Back to Basics

Now I am back in Devon, it is really about time that I got my act together and stopped putting things off. So. Let me see.  I have a brand new rented flat. I have no idea how I got it, just that there are forces for good within the welfare system. The trouble is, the Housing Association are very slow in making alterations. I have had kick boards installed (to hide the gaping holes in the plaster made by my electric wheelchair) in order to open the front door and the exterior hallway door without too much damage. This is probably the greatest physical effort I have to suffer and about time the HA fixed them. The strange thing is that I have little of my old furniture, or trinkets or clothes. I haven't seen them for 2 years so I hope they have been sold and disposed of, not rotting in my mother's garage.
I make sure I am out every day, because I am not old and have not given up. I have also made two long-distance trips: one to Thurso in the far north near John O'Groats, which I never achieved as I spent the time in and out of hospital in Wick, 4 hours north of Inverness; the other trip was to North Wales, and I was able to spend  a day riding the Ffestiniog Railway and the North Wales Narrow Gauge. 11 train changes and no slip ups: ramps all the way.
Future long distance trips may involve Ecuador, the NE USA, and Australia. And, I haven't forgotten hang-gliding. I suppose I ought be careful as I am not able to hoover, sweep, dress my self, but with careful planning I should be able to achieve one of them. Closer to home, I have to find a carer in Leicester for City vs Manchester City in December

NB in the next few weeks there will be a new version of this blog on my own website. Suitable links will be supplied.

Losing it

has lost 3 bank cards in 3 weeks:
no1 was in my wallet which fell out of jacket pocket, and cancelled along wirh Nectar card;
Card no.2, as soon as I recevied it, appeared to have been scammed as a strange invoice was recieved here in my temporary residence, and ended up on £12K on building material,  and cancelled, and money refunded by the Bank's fraud department. Card replaced;
then this morning, whilst in bed (hey, I have no legs), I was trying to buy a train ticket over the phone, got interrupted, moved stuff about, and couldnt find card no.3. Had a care worker taken it? (reinforced by the scam on card no.2, but silly me, amazing what paranoia you get if entirely dependent). Ah, but after 2 hours, I heard a satisfying clickety noise from the end of the bed, and after half an hour, it was back in my hands. This time, I will attach it by chain to my leg, through the bone

Stoke Mandeville

I have been 3 months here in the world reknowned spinal injury hospital, famous for its' rehabilitation through sports and exercise. I have learned how to build upper body strength, how to get dressed, how to insert suppositories, and to wiggle them about with an audience, and how to have the whole hospital see me naked. I can't do my shoes, and not socks either. Or get in or out of bed unassisted.
The Physio-terrorists are particularly harsh and cruel, both to their victims and to their slaves/assistants. No session, whether in the pool, or the gym, is complete without blood being spilled. They call it cruel to be kind. Even the nurses adopt their practices: my lie-in this morning (Sunday) began at 06.50, with suppositories, toilet and shower, before being allowed back to bed, half dressed, for an hour two.
Despite this, I have been practicing my freedom. Into town on the bus most days, to London 3 times, buses galore, to Milton Keynes and to Leighton Buzzard. Not one other wheelchair user gets out and about like this, but I think it is a good thing and positive rehabilitation: I have learnt where to get off the bus so as to take advantage of lifts and shopping centres to gain access to the upper end of the town centre (Aylesbury); I have a target set (by my Psychologist) to go abroad by August.
To a certain extent, the mind appears to take this new found status (wheelchair user) into account and makes the most of the situation: ecstasy, bright and darkness, just stopping and looking, appreciating the kindness and generosity of other people. A worthy opponent to depression.
Now, the downside. Muscles in the paralysed area ie legs, tend to seize up in the night (and while sitting a wheelchair) and make getting up difficult and painful. A new meaning to having a stiffy in the morning.
Additionally, I have suffered many hours of suffering and worry. I suppose after spending this long in hospital, friends and family tend to lose interest. I can cope, though, roll on the next footie at Wycombe or Leicester, and moving back to Devon
I am looking forward to leaving here (it is actually just an hospital, with gyms attached for us unlucky few) and getting back to unsupervised, independent existence. I will still need care, and my daughter, bless her, will chip in. Her help is unconditional. for which I am grateful.

Patchy, at best

As the physical effects of my broken back, spinal infection, paralysis and operation are absorbed, improved and accommodated, and my dear friends and family are rewarded for their love, concern and support , I hope, by my progress (3 times out on my own this weekend), I am finding more time to examine my own  mind.Thanks largely to a lot of counselling from a certain friend, I have overcome many crises and low points and have become fairly well reconciled to who I am and what I have become, both physically and mentally. I have acknowledged the link between who I am, how I behave and how my body functions. I think (hope?)I have become a "better" person, happier in myself and through that, happier in my relationships with other people.
My chief worry is memory loss and whatever behavioural symptoms I exhibited. I have no idea how I was behaving to make M leave me 17 months ago, days after I returned from the North Pole, or to make my son so angry with me. I know I remember some things and not others ("there were riots last August???", but then again, last August I remember having a vomitting fit at St Pancras and ended up with an ambulance, a hospital and a hotel bill, where I was going, I have no idea) ). I know last January and February are pretty blank (but I remember Cuba), as are much of April to July. Then I woke up in a Morphine induced Haze, with screaming agony, no legs and an obsession to escape from Addenbrooke's. Going through old emails, notebooks (memory loss had already lead to notebooks), Facebook etc has made me realise what I have lost: hot dates, an invite to a sold out concert by the performer himself (why? how?), relationships I had forgotten I had. Many relationships were unaffected, some became distant and slightly accusatory ("it's all my fault"), others I have had to apologise and rekindle. But what about the relationships to which I have found reference or pictures but no name? Who were they? Where are they? There were many and the number gets larger as I dig deeper. Perhaps it shows the ultimate shallowness of internet relationships, but then again I still have as friends many folk who were originally internet friends but have since become real friends, and all my friends become more real to me because of my experience, which is ongoing due to injury and continuing iffy memory. I value (if not recall) what I have. Now, where was I?

Chat-up Lines, Post Paralysis

I had a visit from a childhood friend today. We had re-established contact by e-mail earlier this year(I don't remember how) and had established that we had had griefy personal relationships, grown up children, depression, personal injury (eg she lost an eye in a car accident, I have trouble with my leg), Venezuela, northern latitudes (Iceland, Spitsbergen) etc in common, before it all faded away around last May as my mental facilities slowly sunk into a dark and murky place and I forgot even yesterday.

I managed to contact her again from hospital after I had trawled my emails to try to make sense of the first six months of the year, and she came over to the hospital. What a merry chat we had. She taught me that I am not fully recovered, in that I tend to burble on and then forget where I had started, something I need to get under control, but nonetheless, loads in common, plenty to build on, potential at least as long lost friends.

We parted on good, affectionate terms, inspite me making pirate comments about her patch (never been done before, of course). My email to her after was a bit premature (I am stuck in here for months), but hey, I thought this worked:

"I hope you feel the same about doing it again. I can just see us hanging about in a bar, you with yer eyepatch, me with me chair, putting the world to rights, drinking rum, as the rest of the customers give us a wide berth".

Legless

What a struggle this is becoming. I can barely move without excruciating pain in my stomach and back. I have no legs, arse or dick that I know about. No feeling, dead, gone. I am incontinent. I have my nappy and bed changed whilst naked and in pain (I have to roll, or be rolled). I cannot contemplate a wheelchair until my next op in 2 weeks due to the 10/10 pain (ie total loss of control, screaming, sweating, being stabbed.... ). All leading from breaking my back in March, and a subsequent infection (abcesses) in my lower spine and from drinking too much. It would have been so much easier to continue on my planned Trans Siberian Express trip to Bejing and Australia.

All I do is read, watch TV, ebay, FB etc. No more leaping eagerly out of bed for me. My legs ache, strangely, even though they arent there. The nurses gather eagerly in my room (room personalised with posters, cd player, gadgets and trinkets etc) each day to see what has arrived from ebay or Amazon.

As you may know, I am planning for the future,for a place of my own, for some sort of mobility, for bowel control, for independence, for travel (I know not with whom), to be an example, to overcome, and have had praise for my attitude.

But I wonder if I am just fooling myself and others, being my usual trivial self, and shying away from the awful truth of life coping with pain, shit, wheelchairs, pity, self-pity, no sex, falling, steps, dependency, planning ahead, isolation, penury, etc etc? This really bothers me. I just hope the first is correct and I continue to "inspire" and to give.

Friends helps me be positive, and all the cards and calls and visits. But it is hard work, especialy late at night (04.00 sleep quite often). My Mum had to postpone her visit to Australia, but she has been a rock for me now I am off the Morphine, as have sisters and children and my friends, some of whom I have become very close to. All the dozens of nurses and my family have remarked on the utter change in my mental health and happy demeanour over the last 6 weeks, so at least I have my head together, and hopefully the madness and breakdown are over. Life for me is now an OPPORTUNITY with a wheelchair. It certainly makes you grow up (even if you end up a couple of feet shorter).

There, rant over. I hope you forgive me. I truly have no memory of most of the last 2 or 3 years.

Women

I suppose living life to the full, exploring and travel, throwing things away, living life for the Journey, is pretty much a turn off for the women I meet. I went into the pub for the football tonight: must talk to her more: she knows my pint, (My pint was waiting on the bar) I dont go there very often, but obviously someone at least pays me some attention: my gait, my broken back and I know nothing about her. Aha! new project! I suppose Trans-Siberian (failed) is better than Trans-Siberian (never attempted)